The Lady and the Vampire
by Nico'sGirl
Summary: This is like Twilight, but it takes place in the 1800's. But there's a twist: Edward is no vegetarian.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: This is a version of Twilight that would have taken place in the 1800s

Disclaimer: I don't own Edward and Bella, just the idea of this story.

Summary: This is a version of Twilight that would have taken place in the 1800s. But there's a twist: Edward is no vegetarian. Not by a long shot.

Lady Bella's POV

"Look. Look there." Mabelina Weston whispers. "That is him. Count Edward Cullen."

I look up and see a man entering the ball room, wearing a dashing suit. He is not like the other men I see around me. While they are flushed and already bobbling under the influence of wine, he is calm and cool.

"The one who was on holiday in Scotland last season?" I ask Miss Weston. She nods. I've heard not much about Count Cullen, only that much scandal was aroused when he did not return to London for the summer season.

"He's quite dashing," I murmur to her. She smiles.

"Then go over that way and sit nearby him. Perhaps he may ask you to dance."

"Oh, but Mabelina-." I start. She gives me a light shove in his direction. Grudgingly, I walk to chaise near where he stands watching the dancers. I am taken aback when I see his eyes. They are blood red and watch the crowds in an almost hungry manner. But to me, strangely, they are one of his most alluring features. I perch myself on the lounge and note with pleasure the way his eyes follow me.

To my surprise, he does indeed approach me. "Miss, might I be so bold to I inquire if a man has already asked your hand for the quadrille?" His voice, like his demeanor, is as smooth as the velvet of my gown.

I bat my fan lightly around my face and casually glance at my dance card. I scrutinize it for a moment, even though all its slots are empty of partner's names. "Why, I don't believe I do." I say coyly. "It's just starting now," I say, getting to my feet at leisure."

He places his hands on me and they are cold, but of course, he has just been outside in the London's frosty winter air. However, I cannot hold back a shiver. I make a weak attempt at conversation, "So, I hear you have been in Scotland recently." I curse myself for not having Mabelina's conversational gifts.

But he responds anyway, "Yes indeed. The country was quite a soothing reprieve from all the bustle of London. Have you been?"

"Yes!" I say, excited to find a topic I can speak of with a little knowledge for once, "My father was born there, in Edinburgh. But we visited cousins in the countryside many times. Indeed, that is where I shall retire this spring, until the summer season." Oh, no, now my incessant babble will not stop. I clamp my mouth shut and bite my lip to keep it from opening once more.

But he looks interested. Oh, Count Cullen, you cease to amaze me! "As am I. Perhaps we may run into each other. Where are you keeping residence, pray tell? Not Bennbow?"

"Yes, indeed." I murmur, trying to keep my answers short, "Perhaps you might call on me during the spring."

"Yes, perhaps." Now, as I look at him, his eyes look distant. There is a big finish as the quadrille comes to an end.

"Thank you, that was quite a pleasant dance." I murmur to him. I turn to return to my chaise, but he catches my wrist. I should be offended by his boldness, but instead I am thrilled by his eagerness to dance with me again. I glance at my card. A minuet is next.

I put my hands in position to dance but he stops me. "Why don't we… go play a game of cards?" Cards? I can't play cards to save my own life, but if its what I must do to be alone with him, I must make such a sacrifice.

And so I make no protest as he leads me into the darkened billiards room, where no one can see us.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaima: Ia Don'ta Owna thea Twilighta Booksa. Okaya?

We enter the card room. It is dark, lit only by a ceiling lamp hanging above a circular table. Off to the side there is a billiards table. The cues for the game hang on racks on the wall behind it.

He leads me by the gloved hand over to the round table. The flame in the lamp hisses and pops, startling me. He chuckles at my display and gives me a strange, crooked smile that I find makes my stomach flutter. This is a feeling I have not yet had in my lifetime.

Is this what love really feels like? Those halfpenny papers Mabelina and I read, they described love as the humming of a hundred violins, and explosion of color beneath the eyelids of a person long lost to slumber. But this is subtle, like a creeping snake, and I do not know what I feel for sure.

"Please," He says, breaking the silence, "Have a seat." I select a chair at the round table and he pushes me in. He takes a seat across from mine own.

"Do you play bridge?" He asks me.

Thankfully, it is one of the few card games I can stumble my way through, so I affirm his inquiry.

"Ah, excellent." Count Cullen says, retrieving a deck of cards from his waistcoat pocket. I notice that his jacket is lined with thick gold fabric. So he is wealthy. The chain of the watch that remains in his pocket also is gold. Very wealthy indeed, it appears.

The Count deals the cards, never once looking down, holding my gaze until I must break away. His eyes are the strangest of colors, almost black.

We play a few rounds of bridge, talking in an idle manner of Scotland, and other things of a dull nature. He annihilates my futile efforts with these infernal cards in every round.

Count Edward Cullen and I are lost in a world of our own until the clock chimes out midnight.

"Oh, dear, the time has escaped us I believe." I declare. He helps me up from my chair and we walk back to the main ballroom.

"Yes, it appears so." He replies. "Perhaps I should… Help you to your carriage." He smiles at me. He really has the most charming demeanor about him, so much so that it is hard to say not to him. The way he acts is almost… dazzling. There, that is a proper word to describe him. Dazzling.

"Why, yes, your assistance would be much obliged." I murmur to this, trying to contain my inner joy. Hello world, the perfect, rich, wholesome, charitable and handsome Count Edward Cullen is walking me to my carriage!

Fine, so I might not be able to announce my jubilation to all those around me, but I do manage to catch Mabelina Weston's eye as we exit the ballroom and make our way to the driveway, the Count and I arm in arm. She widens her eyes and raises her eyebrows. She puts a single slender gloved hand to her mouth and gives me a little grin.

So she is shocked by my accomplishment. I contain my giggles. I look to Count Edward, who has his eyes fixed on the road. He gives me a little smile, meeting my eyes, and then turns back to the cobblestone path.

I turn back to Miss Weston, now that I am sure I have no audience but her, and place my hand over my heart, shape my mouth in a little O. I can almost hear her tittering laugh as she observes my horrid acting. I was going for an offended look, but I probably looked as if I had ingested a bit too much champagne at dinner.

"Ah, my carriage is that Luxingshire, the on up ahead," I say to Count Edward pointing to it.

"I see. That lovely black one?" He makes me blush and I look away from him. I study the brick to my left. We have fallen behind the others; we are last in the procession to the carriages. I note the narrow alley in the wall up ahead. Just past that is my carriage.

"Oh, I don't know about lovely… It cert-." I am cut off.

His hand is over my mouth, pressing so hard I can scarcely find air to breathe between his fingers. "Don't scream." Count Cullen whispers in my ear. He has pulled me into the alleyway. His voice, now rough with adrenaline is still beautiful evermore. "I promise this will be quick."

Oh, God. I have heard tales of women alone at night with strange men, women who are not careful, so, so unlike me. Virtues stolen in dark passageways, lives damaged beyond repair. Those were different stories; I never thought something would happen to me like this.

But Count Cullen, his intents don't feel like that. His hands remain on my waist and over my mouth only.

However, the next thing he says chills me to the bone, removing every last shred of hope. "I hope you die."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: NO NO NO!!! I am SO not Stephenie Meyer!!! Gawsh I don't own Twilight! Please R&R. Every day I get on here and check my profile, panting, for reviews. And when I find a new one I freak out and scream. Don't you wanna give me that joy? So….. REVIEW! Love, Nico'sGirly-girl.

Lady Bella's POV

His chilling words ring in my ears. What does he mean? What shall he do to me? I take in as much oxygen as possible, preparing myself for a scream. I have a decent voice. The others aren't too far away. They will hear me even with my voice muffled by Count Cullen's hand.

I open my mouth and scream.

But no one will hear me, at least, no one that matters. And if they did hear me, it would be too late. Because the moment before the scream bubbled up my throat and out my lips, Count Edward Cullen took off.

It appeared that we were flying over the London rooftops. I didn't dare myself to look down. The harsh winter wind slashed at my cheeks and made my eyes water. I try to call out to him, make him stop, but my words are sucked back down my throat, due to our prodigious speed.

My first instinct is to nestle my face into his shoulder to protect my face. I try this, against my better judgment and my rapidly increasing fear of him, or whatever he is, but he provides no warmth. Pressing my face to his skin is like rubbing my cheek on ice.

Against the furious pull of the wind I try to beat my fists upon his chest. He doesn't even flinch at my attempts. Silent tears trickle down my cheek.

I glance at his face. The warmth that once was displayed there plainly is gone. He looks only ahead.

I finally work up my nerve to look down. What I see is he is not flying, but running. His foot makes light contact with each roof. What surprises me is that we are traveling at a good speed over London's most fashionable homes. Mansions, some. I can't help but notice how graceful he is, not even glancing at his feet while he runs.

I barely feel when he stops. We are perched on the roof of a rather large house. There is a large hatch and he drags me over to it. It is large enough for the both of us t fit through. He jumps down, pulling me after.

We land in a stylish room, with Oriental rugs and a velvet settee. A maid is there, cleaning the fireplace. She looks up and sees the Count, restraining me. She is not much older than me, and beneath the ash marking her cheeks, she is rather beautiful.

Her eyes go wide, but she says nothing.

"Emilia," Count Edward says smoothly, as if I am not even there, "I believe there is some silver below stairs that needs polishing."

Emilia nods but doesn't move. Her eyes are fixed upon me. I cal lout to her, my voice contained by the Count's hand. She hears me, but does not approach.

"Hmm?" He takes a step toward her and then Emilia is gone, down the stairs.

He lets go of me. He crosses the room in three strides and locks the door. I try to run, but my shaky legs cause me to trip on the rug's edge and I am down on my hands and knees.

He turns back to me. I try to crawl away, until I back up into the wall. He comes over to me. Count Cullen bends down. He leans forward until his mouth is only a whisper from my ear. I feel his frigid breath upon my cheek.

"I am sorry," he says, "Very sorry." He pulls back, tilting my chin upwards so I may look one last time into those dark, dark eyes. Then he leans forward, as if he is going to kiss me. For one giddy moment I think he is. Then his teeth connect with my throat. I barely have time to register this pain. Then he hoists me up by the shoulders, cracking my head back against the deep mahogany wood paneling.

A gurgling screech forces its way out my mouth as he tears at my body. I can feel my body being drained.

Dear God, he is drinking my blood. Just like a vampire. Or is he one? Do they really exist, that old wives' tale?

Then, suddenly, he stops. He backs away from my limp body, moaning. He stares at me, a strange look in his eye. It is like hunger, but more of a longing. He is not breathing.

Everything is going black. Yes, let death come. Who knows what he shall do to me next. I am now thanking him for wishing me an early death. I welcome the darkness like a sister.

Then, the fire begins.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Hola. Me llamo es non Stephenie Meyer. Me llamo es Nico'sGirl. Si?

I burn. There is no other word to describe the sensation coursing through my body. I feel as if Vesuvius has erupted within my veins and filled me with its fiery release. I scream. I moan. I beg for him to kill me. But he does not listen to my crazed pleas. Instead, he is the one who speaks to me.

"Please listen to me. Miss Swan, please. I'm terribly sorry, but for now you must listen to what I tell you. It is essential for your survival." He waits for a response, and, upon receiving none, he continues. "I did indeed attempt to drink your blood. You may have perceived the notion that I am a vampire. Unfortunately for the both of us, this notion is correct. I live in this house with several others of my kind. We do not pretend to be a family, for we are only together for convenience, and some of them are mates. They will still, however, be quite surprised to see you. My prey does not usually escape me." He trails off, his voice becoming muted by the bustling of the servants downstairs.

I let out a single sharp shriek, jolting him from his reverie. "What is… happening to me?" I manage to choke out. It is as if my lungs are being crushed by the weight of the heat. I can barely let breathe wheeze between my teeth. I wince against the pain.

"You are becoming one of us. Your body is changing to become more appealing and durable. That is how you attract your prey. You will be, essentially, invincible." He chuckles a little there. "I will teach you myself to hunt. You saw how I… approached you at the ball. I will show you how to use your abilities to do such."

I am silent for the rest of the night. My screaming only starts again in the morning.

I burn for three more days.

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Disclaimer: Yo, dudes, I'm not, like Stepehenie Meyer!!!! Anyway, I apologize for not updating in like 4evvvvver. So, I haven't really been thinking about my writing much. This may be a lil' sloppy, but I hope you like it! Love, Nico'sGirl

When I open my eyes, I am cold. So cold, with the absence of the fire within me. The harsh light of the candelabra in the room's corner should pain me, after having my eyes so tightly clamped shut for so long, but I adapt in a moment. I whip my head around, trying to find my bearings. My hair whips around my face in the wind I have created in this movement. Only to be expected, I suppose, for Count Cullen had told me I would be much faster and stronger.

Count Cullen. My eyes focus in less than a second upon the chair behind my bed where he has sat for three days, unmoving and virtually unspeaking, lest to explain my new life and soothe me when my screams reached intolerable volumes. I am surprised to find the chair empty. As far as I know, he had not got up from the spot for three days, the whole length of my burning. This had surprised me, for he did not even rise to eat, relieve himself, or even stretch. He apparently did no sleeping, as would I now.

Now, Count Edward Cullen appears in the doorframe. This very motion causes my nerves, wound tight, to propel me into the air, where I orient myself in a crouched stance, and land before him, snarling. It takes a few moments to call my bluff, and then I straighten up. I look into his eyes, nearly black now.

"Why, I… I'm sorry, I'm just terribly sorry. I don't know what came over me." I stammer, disarmed by the glow in his eye. How could I not have noticed it before? Now that I look at him, he is much more handsome than I first assumed. How had my human eyes been so weak as not to see this magnificence? I stop my thoughts from wandering off on a tangent again, as they often do.

Count Edward smiles at me. He leans forward until he is close enough to kiss. That is, if I wanted to at all. And surely, I don't. "It's perfectly natural." He says, his sweet breath making a trail across my cheek. He is no longer cold to me. I suppose my body heat has dropped, sucked away by the fire, that hungry fire.

"You left." I say bluntly. After all we've been through, I decide my usual flowery vocabulary isn't necessary. After all, we are not exactly friends, but something else, two souls bound together by a trauma, like survivors of a shipwreck.

"Yes, I went to tell the others about you, and that you were waking. They are expecting to meet you soon." Meet the other vampires? I barely know the Count himself!

"Well, if I must speak with them, then I must." I murmur and trudge towards the door. I stop in the hallway, where I realize I have no idea where I am going. I furrow my brow, or as much as I can with my new marble skin. Edward comes up behind me and takes my hand. I gasp at his touch, shocked. Who does he think he is, touching me like this, after what he did to me! My annoyance arises in my brain in a fraction of a fraction of a second. Then I realize he is only leading me to the staircase. Oh.

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Count Cullen takes me into a lavishly decorated living room. Six people sit there upon the lush purple settees, arranged into the three sides of a square before a newly cleaned fireplace. They murmur softly to each other, but cease when I appear. Edward, the brave one between the two of us, enters the sitting area first. "Everyone," Count Cullen intones, "This is Miss Isabella Swan. You all know she is new to this way of life, and I trust you will all be cordial to her. Now, why don't you all introduce yourselves? Alice, why don't you begin?"

"Oh, of course. Miss Isabella, my name is Mrs. Alice Whitlock. I'm sure the two of us may become great friends." These words come from a tiny pixie of a girl. Her black hair is cut dangerously short for a lady of her class. I almost laugh at myself. In my position I can still make cutting observations on social faux pas. Lo, the irony!

"Very pleased to meet you." I say to her, my own thoughts wandering as I have said before they often do. I notice the title she has given herself. She says she is married, but she looks barely a day over fifteen.

Then, the man beside her stirs. "I am Mr. Jasper Whitlock. It's nice to meet you." O this is the husband of little Alice. He is polite, but not as talkative as his companion. I repeat my greeting. He is tall and blond.

I turn to the next couch, where I am taken aback from the very sight of the woman who lounges before me, stretched on her side across the couch, propped up by her elbow which lies upon the arm of the furniture, a plum velvet. She wears a shockingly bright dress of blue seersucker that hugs her curves. It's a daring cut, what with the style nowadays. Her blonde hair spills over her shoulder. I am in awe of her. She is everything I am not, and everything I wish I was. She straightened up when Edward led me to her. Her eyes for a moment were fixated upon our clasped hands. Then she looked up at me. "Oh, hello. I am Mrs. Rosalie McCarthy, nee Miss Rosalie Hale." Rosalie Hale. I knew the name. She was a lovely society debutante, only a crisp twenty years old. She had gone missing about a year and a half ago. The story had been splashed over the front page of every news paper and had just positively filled up the gossip sections.

"Oh, its very nice to meet you." I mutter out through my shock.

She smiles back at me, but not in a kind manner, but in a rather haughty mean, in fact. The great beast sitting by her rises. He is simply enormous, and has a full head of springy curly black hair.

He introduces himself as Mr. Emmett McCarthy, and I am too afraid of him to even reply, only nod and force a weak smile. But his face is warm, and he seems kind enough. I move to the last chaise lounge, where there can be seen another pair of man and woman.

I approach them, and the man, another blonde, his features rather unremarkable, stands.

"I am Mr. Carlisle Cullen, although I do often go by "Dr.", even though I have most certainly never been instructed in medicine. It merely provokes conversation during parties." He gives me a smile. "I'm what you might call the leader of this clan." He is just simply so friendly, his charisma is powerful. I don't even notice when the woman sitting with him, equally unremarkable in appearance, rises and greets me.

Her hair is a light brown and she keeps it pinned in a bun at the nape of her neck, as someone much older than she would, the lady of the house usually. "I am Mrs. Esme Cullen." I smile and greet her. Then I pause. "You and Mr. Edward have the same names. But surely you are not related."

Mr. Carlisle smiles. "Edward's name was far too well known for him to keep it. The good people of England would certainly notice if Edward Masen was reborn from death."

I gasp, and turn to Count Cullen. "You are Edward Masen?"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimerrrrr: Heyyyy, iiiii dontttt ownnn twilighttttt!!!!!. Pleaseeeeeeeee R&RRRRRRR!!!!!!!! Loveeeee, Nico'sGirlllllll! (Well, I'm actually going 2 try and change my name to Jack'sGirl, so we'll see about this )

"Yes" Count Cullen says. "I am. You didn't honestly think I disappeared into deep dark Africa, did you?"

"Well, yes I did, because that's what everyone thinks happened to you. You were in Africa, and you never came back! What were we supposed to think?" Edward Masen was the son of a wealthy lord, gone exploring in Africa. He never returned from his six-month voyage. He was thought dead. That had been more than five years ago. I had been a mere lass of twelve years old at the time I'd read it in the papers.

"Well, Carlisle found me in Africa. He began to… feed upon me. But he heard natives approaching, and fled. I underwent the change alone. When I awoke again, I sought him out, for I had no idea what had happened to me. I joined him, along with Esme, Alice, Emmett, and Jasper."

"How could you?" I gasp. There wasn't a soul in England who hadn't heard about the grief of Mr. Edward's parents. "Did you even go so far as to read about your memorial in the papers?" I certainly had. I followed the story as much as possible, thinking what a shame it was that it had been such a young and handsome man to take the fall. I had attended the memorial, a service open to the public. I sat in the back and watched as the Masen men and a few of Mr. Edward's close friends carried an empty casket down the cathedral's aisle, up the marble steps and placed before the altar. I had watched as Mrs. Masen had made a tearful testimony to her son and his vibrant, well-lived life, and that even though he was presumed dead, he was always alive in her heart, and in her mind he was still out there, desperately hacking through the jungle and simply forgetting time and time again to post a letter home. I can even remember the white, pure "Lilies." I say, the word slipping out.

"I beg your pardon?" he says, I notice from the corner of my eye that Ms. Alice is carefully getting up from the couch. Mr. Jasper follows her. Rosalie and Emmett have already left, and Carlisle and Esme soon follow suit. Edward and I are alone.

"There were lily flowers at your memorial service. The year was 1895. I was twelve years of age; the sky was gray with clouds of rain." I say. Edward's face bends, twisting into a grimace.

"I wanted to go, truly I did!" he says in a broken voice, "But I simply couldn't, for our entire operation would be found out and… I would rather my family think me dead than to have become this… this monster that I am!" He turns his head from me. "And now I've brought all of this upon you as well. I'm sorry, so terribly sorry for this. It would be perfectly acceptable if you were to never forgive me for this vile sin I've committed. I kill to stay alive, you see, for sustenance. But to create another of my own kind, bring this suffering into your world; that is the worst I could ever do." If Mr. Edward could cry, I assume he would be wracked with sobs by now.

"You shall not ever say that again." I say, daring to look into his deep burgundy eyes. "Never say that you are a monster!"

He lets out a hiss that sounds like coals being thrown upon fresh snow. "But, Miss Isabella that is simply what I am. Don't you see what I have done to you?" His white hand reaches across the short distance between us to stroke my face. His touch is warm now, no longer an icy bath.

"I should have killed you, for it would have been rescue from this vile existence…" he whispers, "But I simply couldn't, for removing you from this earth… would remove all the light from my life. You are the only light left."

I back up, frightened. The backs of my calves hit the plum velvet chaise. He follows me, and suddenly, his lips are upon mine. They are smooth as marble, pressing tightly. My heart scurries away inside my chest, for I have never kissed a man before. His hand reaches up to stroke my arm, so soft… But he is so fierce. I attempt to scream, but there is no air in my lungs for this action. I push him away. He staggers back when I do so. Of course, I had forgotten my new strength.

"Miss Isabella!" He cries. He reaches out with one pale arm, "I love you! I couldn't kill you, simply could not! I am selfish for it, but I do love you!"

"You are frightening me!" I say. I stretch out my arms, palms facing out, a signal for him to back down from his stance, and he follows the command of the gesture.

"Please," Edward says, a note of begging in his words, and… something else. "Please, Isabella, let me love you…"

"I…" My breath catches within my throat, " I need to go. I need time alone, thank you." I turn, maneuver myself between the settees, and yank open the heavy mahogany door, causing the brass horse head knocker to bounce and create quite the racket. Without even looking behind me, I disappear into the foggy morning.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Heyyyyy, I don't own Twilight! Oh, god, it just hurts so much…. Read and review!!!! Love love love to all the people who stomach my writing!!! Xoxo Nico'sGirl!!!

Author's Note: Hey everyone! This chapter is going to contain some pretty gory material, so if you don't have a strong stomach or just don't want to read something like that, there will be a condensed summary of the chapter at the bottom of this page. Thanks for reading! I appreciate every review, and I love to read them and consider all your advice! Xoxo Nico'sGirl

I must talk to someone. My emotions push at my limits. I have to let it out. My sensible shoes click as I bounce down the stone steps and onto the pavement. I keep my head down, eyes trained upon the sidewalk. The world outside is gray. Men in hats hustle past me on their way to work, women brush by me toting umbrellas, which are folded under their arms, as the rain has stopped. A governess drags two children down the street, gripping their hands tightly, a boy and girl. The little boy trips on a loose stone, which pulls up his knickerbockers, and he skins his shin. My throat erupts in flames as his blood permeates the air. The child starts to cry. The governess crouches down beside him, the filthy bottom of her apron and black dress trailing in the mud. The child wails more, and I hesitate where I stand. I am not in control of my body as I lean down beside him, croon to him "Oh, sweetie, are you all right?". The little boy looks up at me and shakes his head rapidly. The governess glares at me.

I can hear the little boy's heartbeat. _Thud thud thud thudthudthudthudthud. _The heart speeds up as I get closer and closer to the tender skin of the child's throat. I can almost feel the smooth, delicious skin upon my lip. I exhale and open my mouth a little. The child's eyes stare into my own, mine a vicious red and his a wide, terrified blue. A few passerby stop and stare at me, shocked. The governess shouts, "What on Earth!" and shoves me back. She is not strong enough to move me, but her touch startles me and I leap to my feet, press myself against the brick façade of the building nearest us.

I hold my breath, trying to forget the taste of fire in my throat, trying to forget my thirst. When I reach the corner, I glance up at the street sign. Wallace. I know this place… This is where my dearest friend Mabelina Weston lives. I can confide in her. She would understand any problem! I turn, and there it is! I hurry up the steps, trailing my hand on the black railing that has been curved into designs I have long since memorized. This place is more familiar than my own home. I open the door and Bertram, the butler comes to assist me.

"Madam," He looks me up and down, confused. "May I be of service to you?"

"Bertram," I say, smiling at him and brushing a lock of damp hair from my forehead, "It's me, Isabella."

"Isabella Swan?" he says. "Oh… Well, Miss Weston is upstairs, in her bedroom."

"Thank you!" I call behind me as I bound up the pine steps in a very unladylike fashion. When I enter Mabelina's room, she is lounging on her four-poster bed, the gossamer curtains billowing around her. She looks just like she did when we met at six years old, her feet dangling in the air as she lies on her stomach. "Mabelina!" I exclaim.

She sits up like a bolt. "Oh, Isabella! I haven't seen you in days! Where have you been since the dance? And you didn't take your carriage home." Mabelina says this as she leaps out of bed and slings her arms about my neck.

"Yes, well I… was preoccupied." I swallow, trying to ignore my primal urges.

Mabelina walks over to her chest of drawers, opens the top one. She pulls out a slim silver case, and inside are a multitude of cigarettes. I raise my eyebrows at this. It isn't proper for a lady to smoke. But she takes one out anyway, striking a match on the edge of one of her party shoes. The whitish smoke curls from the smoldering tip. She inhales it, and I risk a breath. I regret it. The cigarette smells like… men. Mabelina catches me staring at the cigarette perched in her fingers. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, do you fancy one?" she asks innocently.

"Um, no that's quite alright…" I hesitate for a moment, before I decide to let it all pour out. "Mabelina, something happened…" I tell her everything about that night, ending with my exit from the house this morning. "Please…don't be afraid of me. I'm not a… monster."

"Isabella…" she trails off. She sighs, then turns to ash her cigarette into a flowerbox just under her window. Mabelina turns back to me and walks over slowly. "I knew there was something different about you…just look at your eyes. Isabella, I'm so sorry!" she cries as she gives me another hug. Surprised by her reaction, I take in a sharp intake of breath. And the flames erupt once more and I cannot control myself. I lunge for my best friend's throat.

Her shriek of pain cuts off in a gurgle as I slice her vocal cords with my teeth. My jaws work like knitting needles, deeper and deeper into her skin. Blood spurts out and I let it fill my mouth, fuller, fuller, until it overflows from my lips in thin rivulets of ruby. I swallow, but my lips remain stained red. The thick liquid brings the sweetest of soothings to this gargantuan pain. I drink more and more, biting deeper into Mabelina's throat until I reach the trachea. I rip it out and chew experimentally. It is rubbery and of not edible. I spit it back out.

Mabelina is still feebly trying to fight me off. We are on the floor, her back propped up against the wall. Our knees are lined up, my hands on her shoulders, holding her back. Curiosly, I press down harder with my knees and hear her kneecaps crack. Mabelina's eyebrows furrow and her mouth opens in a silent scream, but she is incapable of making noise, only a thin hissing noise as her lungs expel air. Her lower arms beat faintly at my sides. A little angrily, I let go of her shoulders and pin her lower arms o the floor. I press harder and harder, sinking my fingers into her arms. Then, I break through. My fingers brush the floor through the holes I have created in her arms. Blood coats my fingers, and with the last of her energy, Mabelina's face contorts. I pick up her arm and raise it to my mouth, clearing out the hole with my tongue, drinking and drinking.

Mabelina lets out one last breath. I continue suck the blood from my best friend until she has run dry. I stand up and survey my work. Her throat is covered in blood, and it has run down onto her chest, where it has already started to coagulate into sticky strips on lumps of blackish red. There are enormous holes in her arms, and a shard of one of her kneecaps pokes out from her skin. Her discarded trachea is lying by her feet. I glimpse myself, as well, in Mabelina's vanity mirror. My face and neck have been splashed with blood from my feeding. Like I am living in a dream, I pour water from a pitcher by her basin onto a cream-colored washcloth and begin to methodically wipe off my face.

I am not in my head. I cannot face what I have just done, that craze of violence that has just overcome me. In my mind, I have not killed Mabelina, no, that was someone else, something else inhabiting my body. When I have finished, her basin is filled with bloody water, and the washcloth is stained ruby. With one last look at Mabelina, fond almost, I take her key and lock her door, then I exit, hearing the lock click behind me. I travel back down the stairs as quietly as possible, then leave.

Once I am outside on the street, I realize I have nowhere to go. I take a deep breath… Nowhere to go except for… I sigh, and then turn back to where I came from. I trot down the street, happy in spite of the horrible thing I have done. That was the most intense pleasure I have ever experienced, and now a warm glowing feeling encompasses me. However, I cannot enjoy it. My best friend in the world is gone, because I have killed her. My head hangs low once more as I hurry past all the people in the street. They throw me the oddest of looks. The know, they must know by my face what I have done. I cannot bear this. I see Mr. Edward's home up ahead.

I tap my way up the steps again and swing open the door, only to find Mr. Edward still sitting where I have left him. He is staring without blinking at the fireplace. He looks up at me.

"Isabella, where on Earth have you been, I was…" He stops, then takes a deep whiff of the air. "There is blood upon you. Were you… feeding? Without first having been instructed in what to do by me?" Edward looks angry as he saunters up to me, and we are once again almost nose to nose.

"I… I had to talk to someone, let my emotions out." I wish I could cry right now more than anything. But I can do nothing, only dry heaves of emotion flow from me. Edward wraps his arms around me, and I surprise myself by folding into his embrace. He rubs my back with circles.

"You could talk to me…" He says in my ear. I shake my head.

"I just needed to see Mabelina. But… something came over me and I…" My breath hitches as another dry sob shakes my frame, "I killed her." I whispered.

Edward doesn't even flinch. "Its perfectly normal. This is how you will survive. You will become accustomed to it." I cringe a bit as he kisses my hair.

"Edward," I snap as I push myself away from him, "I know I will kill, but Mabelina was my best friend." I turn from him and run up the staircase to the room where he first brought me.

SUMMARY: Isabella flees onto the street, where she is tempted to kill a little boy, but doesn't. She runs to vent about everything to Mabelina Weston, her best friend. However, the thirst is too strong and she feeds on Mabelina and brutally kills her. She then returns to Edward, who comforts her, but she feels is unsympathetic to her plight. She runs back upstairs.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Indeed, I must apologize for my delay in updating this story, which seems to actually be quite popular. I am NOT the owner of the series Twilight, but I would still like for you to REVIEW my story. REVIEWS make the world go round, you know. And so, I give you chapter 7 of 'The Lady and the Vampire'. Xoxo NICO'SLADY

I stand by the four-post bed in what is now my room. Edward explained that the bed is really there out of just habit; I will never sleep again. I coldness settles over my heart when I realize that I will never again dream. I look down and see that my glimmering white hands tremble slightly. I try to forget that these are the hands that just brutally murdered my best friend, but the mind of a vampire is not so relenting.

I close my eyes, but every time my lids lower I see upon them the image I cannot erase. I grit my teeth in a very unladylike way, and grip the bed post fiercely, feeling the horrendous guilt for this great sin staining my soul. I hear the crack of wood, and, surprised, I pull my hand away, only to find it covered in sawdust and splinters. I have broken the post, leaving a dent in the wood in the shape of my hand. Seething, I slump onto the ground. Must I destroy every good thing that I touch? I bury my new porcelain face in my new deadly hands.

There comes a quiet knock upon the heavy wood door. A tentative "Miss Isabella?" follows.

I don't even look up. I simply uncover my mouth and, against all propriety and wisdom, allow a man into my bedchamber. "You may enter." I say quietly.

Count Edward pushes the large door with no effort whatsoever. I realize that I have never even seen an expression of strain mark his tight white brow. He crosses the threshold with a terrible grace, and comes to sit beside me. He hesitates for a moment, as if for once he is not completely sure what to do. Then a hand connects with my back.

"You are too bold by half." I warn him, but he does not remove his hand. I am a little angered now. Doesn't he take me seriously? "I say, get your hand off me." I command a tad more forcefully this time. He rejects me once more.

I rise to my feet in a torrent of swirling petticoats. I fasten those killing hands around his wrist and pull it off me with what I know must be more force than a mere mortal could even dream of possessing. Count Edward lets out a faint moan; there is a screeching noise, and then a thud upon the floor. We both look down at the cause for the sound simultaneously. It is a glistening white hand.

"My God." I whisper. I can think of nothing else. Meanwhile, Count Edward nonchalantly reached down and picks up the severed limb. He touches the ends of his wrist and hand together and suddenly… he is one once more. He looks up at me.

"Miss Swan, were you unaware of this capability?" He asks. His eyes, I see, are black as the depths of a wishing well. I do not know what this means yet.

"No, I was not." I am too stupefied to thing of a proper retort. "Your eyes…. What of their color?"

"Oh, these?" He poses a question, but tone is flat. He understands me precisely.

"Indeed." I say, trying to restrain a most impolite roll of my own eyes. These pulse a sickening red.

"A vampire's eyes mutate gradually from red to black if they have not…fed recently. Since I did not drink from you entirely, I am still… for lack of a better word, thirsty." He says. At this I see a bit of pain pass over his face, and I know his throat must burn with flame of bloodlust.

"Why are you wasting your precious time speaking with the inconsolable me if you are so hungry?" I inquire

"Because I can control myself." He says, "Unlike you. And, right now, you are more important to me than my need."

This is an obvious hit upon my previous behavior. I give a frown. "Don't hinder yourself for my sake. I have done enough to you."

"No, not nearly enough." He moves closer to me as he says this, and suddenly his mouth is so close to mine that I can almost taste his sweet breath upon my aching tongue. No, I must stop myself. This is entirely inappropriate. This is not right. He is a vampire. But, I am too, and among my needs with my thirst is the need for passions I have not yet known. I let out a minute moan.

But I stop myself before I can continue further. There will be other times to learn of this strange new desire. Right now is the time for teaching, and a time for grieving over the murder I have committed.

"You must feed, then. And I want you to teach me. You must show me the proper way to… execute a feeding, so that I may ensure that something like this does not occur again." I murmur these words against his mouth, then step away, trying to hide that even though I do not require oxygen, my breathing has accelerated to a haggard pant.

"Are you really so ready to learn about this, considering your recent traumatic experience?" Count Edward puts this forth cautiously.

"Yes. How else will I ever overcome it?" I say. "I must watch you feed. You must also show me how to capture my prey… humanely, for what I have done is not humane."

He nods slowly. "Indeed then. I will select an easy target for beginning then. And I must warn you, even though you may feel full, once you smell blood, nothing will stop you from feeding just as ravenously as you would had you just gone weeks without sustenance. The only difference is it will be unnecessary." He says, once more warning me of what I have become.

"I understand. And I want to commence this expedition as quickly as possible. I do not want to linger for too long out of doors." I say, aware of how I behaved among the people earlier.

"As you wish. And I assume that you would like a little time to… compose yourself before we go on this little jaunt to find food." Count Edward notes, taking in my disheveled hair and rumpled dress.

"Indeed," I mutter halfway to myself as I show him out the door. As I shut it, I lean back against it, still hyperventilating just as seriously as before.


End file.
